


Given a Chance

by Carissarae1



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, One direction AU, Smut probably at some point, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:05:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carissarae1/pseuds/Carissarae1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis walks into Harry's life, effortlessly. Harry walks out of Louis's life without a second thought. As the years go by, Harry finds himself regretting more and more of his past choices. When he's given a chance to try fix things and find his love once again, he knows he has to take it, but he has a deadline. He only has two weeks to fix three years of silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are just the first 5 chapters right now, so it's still a work in progress. I'll try to update we'll say on Sundays. (Idk maybe but hopefully.) If you could let me know what you think that'd be great!!!!! Ummmm I hope you like what I have so far. You can hmu if you want on my tumblr: tinygoldensun :)

Chapter 1

 

** Hundreds of people. Each one faceless and unrecognizable. All yelling, talking, shouting. He can't understand anything that they're saying. He feels the panic continuing to rise in his chest. He reaches out for the hand that he thinks is there, only to grasp air instead. He spins around, panic now visable in his eyes. He tries to see past all of the faceless shouts. Spinning around, eyes frantically searching through the sea of people, searching, searching, searching for the blue eyes, for the hand he only moments ago had seemingly missed. He tried pushing through the wall of bodies, no use. He begins shouting for the blue-eyed missing body, but his voice is drowned out by the noise from the other people, that he thinks is supposed to be words, but comes out as nothing more than mumbled voices. Spinning, searching, shouting and finally: blue eyes. **

Harry blinked his eyes as the morning sunlight streamed in through the blinds in his bedroom. He sighed as he rolled over to look at his clock. 9:27 AM. He ran a hand through his matted, curly, brown hair as he thought about the dream he woke from only moments ago. It was always the same one: unknown people with no faces, all yelling things that he didn't understand; the panic in his chest; the grasping of air; the searching, spinning, shouting; the blue-eyes.

The blue-eyes.  
Harry pushed the blankets off of himself and slowly crawled out of bed, making his way to the hallway and then to the bathroom. He looked at the reflection he saw in the mirror. He remembered the first time he looked in the mirror and saw what he's seeing now: pale flesh covering his bones, the dark circles underneath the empty, lifeless eyes, and the frown that held so much more than sadness. That first time, Harry was shocked to see himself like that compared to how he once was. How lively he seemed. His eyes reminded him of a pair of blue ones. Now, it was just a daily reminder of what 'used to be'.

He splashed hot water on his face, hot enough to feel it burn his skin, just to remind himself that he was still alive. You still have to breathe, Harry, he reminded himself. He dragged his fingers down his face, and stared at his reflection. His reflection called him a dumb ass and he didn't argue. He ran his hand through his mop of curls a few times, decided it was good enough, and opted out of taking a shower. Who would I see today anyways? My friends? He asked himself. Oh, right. He brushed his teeth- at least I can still do this - grabbed his keys and was out the door before it even read 10:00. A fleeting thought that he should have something to eat, crossed his mind, but he shrugged it off. Later, he told himself.

The soft rumble of the engine was the only sound Harry's ears were filled with as he drove down the road that took him to the heart of the village. The September sun was shining down and through the window, ironically cheerful, of his silver Jeep passed down from his father.

• • • • • • • • •

"Figured it could be useful, you know, for school and stuff." His father had said when he dropped the keys in front of Harry where he was working on homework when he was 17. Harry looked up from his homework at the keys laying before him, before making his eyes meet his father's. He tried to keep his smile from developing as big as he knew it would, but it didn't work. It never did.

"Thanks dad." Harry replied. He never expected to get a car this way. He always thought he was going to have to buy one himself. It's no wonder his smile was so big, leaving dimples on either side of his mouth as deep as craters. He stood, almost taller than his father, and hugged him.

"Just don't crash it, yeah?" His father chuckled, pulling away to look his son in the eyes.

Harry laughed, despite the slight seriousness his father had in his eye, "Yeah dad, no crashes."

"Or tickets?"

"Or tickets." Harry gave his father one more hug, one more thank you, and one more dimpled smile before racing out the door. His father watched his son through the window with loving eyes. He'd do anything to make that boy happy, he really would.

Harry looked back at the house once before he drove away, and his father waved as he watched him drive down the road.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Harry turned the radio on as the silence was becoming suffocating. He caught the end to an old rock song that he couldn't identify and the radio guy came on.  
"Alright, Alright, that was another round of your favorite music, we'll be right back with more in a few minutes." The guy on the radio, who's name was slipping from Harry's mind - Steve, was it? Or maybe Sam? - had said. "So Carol, we've gotten some questions in from some of our listeners and one in particular stood out, yes?" Harry decided his name was Steve.

Carol answered, "Yes. A quite interesting one. It came from Marie and she asked, "if the world was going to end in ten days, what would you do?"

"Great question Marie, thank you for calling it in." Steve said. "If I had ten days left to live I think I would have to go with the ever so cliche of going skydiving." He chuckled. "What about you Carol?"

Harry looked out the window. Vehicles lined the street and people flooded the sidewalks with bags filled with who knows what. The glass on the windows of the stores were all freshly cleaned. There were people who were laughing, people who were talking, and people who were just there with themselves, enjoying some time on their own.

Carol said something about spending time with family and then asked, "Would you have any regrets, Steve? Anything you would've done differently?"

Would you have any regrets? Anything you would've done differently?

Those questions rang in Harry's ears, bouncing back and forth in his brain. Images flashed before him like they were dancing on his windshield. Images of his mom, of his dad, of his friends, of blue-eyes. Images of love, of lust, of fun, of recklessness. Images of mistakes, of a broken soul, and of sad, sad blue-eyes. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and wished them all away. Oh how he wished he could go back. There was so much that Harry wished he could go back and re-do. If he could go back and take back things that he had said, things that he had done, Harry knows he wouldn't hesitate for a second. When he opened his eyes, he was left once again with only the road before him. He turned off the radio.

Harry pulled up to the one intersection in the village. Only a few cars were left actually traveling on the roads. Most everyone was already parked somewhere or had already left, finishing their shopping early. 

He glanced to the right out his window and through one of the shiny, clean windows of a clothing shop, he could make out a woman clutching what was presumably her daughter. With the other arm, the mother held a mound of clothing. He thought about the question they asked on the radio. It brought a sudden sadness to Harry. He felt an uneasiness settle in his stomach. He thought about his own mom and how she too used to clutch his hand like that, until she didn't. It was an accident really. She let go of his hand for a moment to reach something on top of a shelf and the next moment, four year old Harry was searching for her in a grocery store.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"MOM?" Harry bellowed, standing in an aisle filled with soups, and cereals, and granola bars. No response. He scanned up and down the aisle before going to search in the next one over. He tried again, "MOM?" Panic grew in his chest. He was breathing hard. He just wanted to see what color the butterfly was that the Cheerios box promised was inside, so he had wandered over when his mom was right behind him, or so he thought. Harry scanned this aisle and then the next one only to come up with nothing. What was he going to do without his mom? The store was so big, and there were so many people. Would he ever get out? Would he ever find his mom? He wondered, and began to cry.

"MOM MOM MOOM!?" He cried. He noticed people looking at him now. People he didn't know which made it all even worse. Tears streamed down his face as a young lady approached him.

"Hi," she said, "My name is Linda. Are you looking for your mom?"

Harry stared at Linda with wide, wet eyes. His bright green eyes had turned a darker green as they filled with emotion. He nodded his head.

"Okay. Can you tell me your name? Then we can go look for your mom, alright?" Linda asked with care in her voice.

He managed to squeak out, "Harry."

Linda reached for his hand and told him they were going to go to the front of the store. She told him that he could call his mom over the loud speaker if he wanted in an attempt to try to calm him down. It usually worked for children who had lost their parents in the store. It didn't work for Harry. He kept crying as his world was falling down into shambles right there in the grocery store. He followed Linda to the front of the store and there his mom was, standing with two other employees.

"MOM!" His mother spun around with the sound of her child's voice. Harry ran over to her, not bothering to look out for other people. When he reached his mom he threw himself in her arms, with hot new tears rushing down his face. He was safe now. He was safe. It was going to be okay.

Through his tear-filled eyes, he looked up at his mom who was smiling down at him, and with the shaky breaths only children are able create, he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry mom. I just wanted to see the butterfly. I'm sorry."

"I know sweetheart. I know." She said kissing the top of his head. She took Harry's hand, forgetting about the groceries altogether, she clurched his hand, and they left the store together.

Harry's eyes were heavy with sleep on the car ride home. The kind of heaviness one gets after crying, but before he let himself drift off he mumbled to his mother, "Mom, the butterfly was green. It was green." And with that he slept.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Harry was lost in thought about the green butterfly and wondered if the little girl holding her mom's hand had ever seen one. As they walked away down the sidewalk, he hoped she had. With his mind on green and on butterflies, Harry stepped on the gas pedal and as if it were a light switch, everything went dark. He never even saw the truck coming. He was just thinking about green butterflies.

In the chaos he was suddenly surrounded by, he felt a wave of calmness wash over him. He let his mind travel back to his thoughts only moments ago.

Sorry I crashed the car dad.  
I hope you get to see a green butterfly.  
Blue eyes.  
Mom, the butterfly was green.  
The streetlight was red.


	2. Chapter 2

** It's dark. Everything is quiet and all he can see are blue eyes. He looks down at the hand he's holding and bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back the excessively dimpled smile that was ready to spread across his face. It doesn't work. He looks up to see if the blue eyes are watching him. They are. They roll, but there's a playful smirk hiding underneath the surface. They wink at him and now he knows for sure his cheeks are the color of freshly picked roses. They continue down the street when he starts hearing a buzzing sound coming from a distance. He looks up the road to see what looks like a swarm of people up ahead. He doesn't want to keep going. He wants to turn around and back the other way. The hand he's holding, with a tightening grip, pulls back and he's grateful they don't have to walk into the mess of bodies. When they turn around though, they're instantly surrounded by people. Hundreds of people. Each one faceless and unrecognizable. ***

Harry felt like he was floating, like he was on clouds. With the exception of the searing pain in his abdomen, he could've been dreaming. He felt like he had just woken up and everything was still groggy with sleep. Someone on his left was asking him for his name.

"Harry." He answered with clenched teeth that he didn't know he had. The person on his left continued to talk to him, but he didn't hear what he said. Harry was focused on the pain he felt and figuring out where he was. He opened his eyes and immediately squeezed them shut again. The lights were blindingly bright. He tried bringing his hand up to shield his now burning eyes, but didn't get very far before feeling like his shoulder was being ripped apart. He let out pained groan. 

"Yeah, probably not a good idea to move Harry. I'm going to ask you to try to remain as still as you can, alright?" A voice said from somewhere near him. Harry let out a huff a breath. Like I would try moving after that, he thought. If keeping still was going to prevent him feeling like something had just ripped his arm off, he certainly had no problem with it. He tried opening his eyes again, this time squinting as to block the excruciatingly bright lights from blinding him again. Everything was blurry from the grogginess he felt and from having his eyes half closed. He looked to his left where he thought he heard a voice earlier, and saw a face he didn't recognize. His brows furrowed and the man must have seen his confusion.

"Harry, my name is Paul. You're in an ambulance, do you remember anything that happened?" Paul asked.

Harry's mind was spinning. He has to close his eyes again. An ambulance? Does he remember anything? No, he doesn't remember anything. All he remembered were blue eyes.

• • • • • • • • 

The blue eyes stared at him. 

Harry had only walked into the homecoming dance a few minutes ago, of course a few minutes late, and immediately began scanning the crowd of people for one in particular. It had only taken a minute or two to spot the blue eyes on the other side of the room.

Harry watched from his side of the dance floor as the body belonging to the blue eyes bounced along to the music. He saw a smile sprawl across the face making the skin next to the blue eyes crinkle with joy, and making them twice as beautiful as they already were. Harry couldn't help but to smile a little himself. That's when the blue eyes finally met his own green ones.

They looked at each other and Harry raised an eyebrow as if to ask, "How about today?" The blue eyes stared back at him saying, "I'm sorry". Harry nodded his head. He understood. He understood completely because this is what he's done for the last two years. He's stood across rooms, sat across lunch tables, and even waited at football games when those blue eyes would always be filled with happiness, expecting them to finally say, "yes" but they never did. They talked about it time and time again, but every outcome was always the same. The blue eyes were never ready.

Harry didn't stick around long enough to ever let them be.

• • • • • • • •

Harry kept falling in and out of his dream-like state. One minute he'd be with the blue eyes, and the next he'd be filled with pain. His head was lolling around on whatever he was laying on. Was it the ground? He moved his fingers and pressed down onto whatever it was. It felt smooth and a bit chilly, but too soft to be the ground. He tried to remember where he was. The ambulance. Right. What do people lay on in ambulances? He couldn't think. Why was he here? 

"Why am I here?" Harry mumbled, so quietly he was sure nobody had heard him, but he waited for a response nonetheless.

"You were in a car accident, Harry. Do you remember that?" Paul asked, talking slowly. 

Harry's eyes closed again. Green butterflies. A little girl. I hope you get to see a green butterfly, he thought. Green butterflies, a little girl, and blue eyes.  
It was always the blue eyes.

• • • • • • • •

The door slammed shut behind him, on accident, but he didn't mind that it had happened. It fit his mood. There was a long silence before either of them spoke. It was Harry who went first.

"Why? I just want to know why." Harry said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. He waited for a response, but there was none. He sighed and leaned back against the door, closing his eyes, "Is it because of me? Did I do something? Like, I just want to know. You can't leave me hanging here like this!" His voice raised with each question he asked.

"No. It's not because of you or anything you did. It just isn't.. It's not as simple for me as it is for you." The defeated voice responded.

Harry opened his eyes now and looked at the blue eyes standing not very far away from him. Oh how he loved those blue eyes. 

"I don't know if its simple for anyone, but you might be right. It might be easier for me, but what do you have to lose? Honestly, tell me. What possibly do you have to lose?" Harry asked. 

"I don't know. Nothing? Everything? God, Harry I don't know!" The blue eyes weren't looking at him anymore as the yelling continued, "Why does it matter?"

Harry threw his hands up, "Why does it matter? It matters because I'm tired of seeing you with other people and the way you just pretend we're just barely even friends! I'm tired of listening about the amazing times you have with Whoever and What's-Her-Face." He yelled. The blue eyes stared back at him. They've never fought like this before. Sure, they'd argued over where or what to eat, whose house to stay at, and other mindless insignificant things, but they've never yelled. Until now.

Harry looked down at his dirty, worn out shoes. They were the boat shoes he'd gotten from his mom on his birthday. He sighed, "I just want to be able to spend those days with you, instead of just hearing about them." He finished, voice still raised, but not yelling.

There was silence between them and Harry looked back up to those blue eyes. Tears silently slipped out of them and splashed on the hardwood floor. Harry looked out the window on the opposite wall. It was raining, and he thought the clouds must be doing the same thing the person in front of him, who he loved so much, was doing also: releasing everything they couldn't hold in any longer. After keeping it in for such a long time, they just had to let it out, they just had to cry.

• • • • • • • • •

Harry felt the ambulance slow down as they went over a bump. It made his head throb. He squeezed his eyes shut even more than they already were, trying to dull the throbbing. It didn't work. He was beginning to feel anxious, he didn't want to be in the ambulance anymore. He felt like the air was suffocating him, like they've breathed in all the oxygen in the ambulance and now all that's left is carbon dioxide. He wanted to move. He tried moving his arm, the one that hadn't moved earlier, and was successful.

"We're getting you out of here in minute, Harry. Hold on." Paul said sensing his discomfort. Paul's a smart guy, Harry thought. 

The ambulance came to stop and the back doors were opened. A rush of fresh air blew over Harry's entire body, relieving him of his suffocation. It felt so good to finally feel like he could breathe again and he wanted more. He took a huge breath in with his nose and let it out. Perfect. He opened his eyes again, this time relieved to not have the overly fluorescent lights blaring in face, but rather the light sun shining down, not too bright. The sky was clouded, but there were patches of blue strewn aimlessly in the sky. The sun was hidden somewhere behind a sheet of clouds, but still streaming through making it the perfect kind of sunlight. 

"We've got to get him to the ER so they can take a better look at him." Paul said to someone.

"Is he bad?" The person asked.

"Can't tell. Probably some head trauma though. Some broken ribs maybe, other broken bones. I don't know. We got to get him to the ER." Paul answered. I like this guy, Harry thought as he was pushed in through the doors of the hospital, he seems on top of things.

Once inside the hospital, the unnecessary bright lights were back and Harry's temporary happiness was over. He felt so tired now. He just wanted to sleep. He let his eyes slip closed. I'll just rest, Harry told himself before drifting off into sleep. 

• • • • • • • • • • •

Harry was sitting in math class staring out the window. He had no use for the Pythagorean theorem, therefore he didn't care much about paying attention. It was a crappy day out: the sky was smothered with dark gray clouds and rain kept streaming down making puddles on the ground outside. It wasn't very warm yet, it was only the beginning of March, and they still had snow just last week. 

It was a bad day outside to match Harry's bad day in school. He couldn't wait to leave. Ever since he got there, at 7:30, he'd been counting down the minutes until he could go home. It's not that there was anything going on at home, he just didn't want to be in school. Anywhere would actually be better than there. There wasn't anything there for him.

Harry sighed. He flicked a piece of his eraser off his desk and watched it fall slowly down to the floor. He looked back out at the rain falling even harder now. It was coming down in sheets now, and he wondered how much more of it the clouds had left. He was so entranced by the rain, he almost didn't hear the classroom door open. Almost.

He turned to see who was it was, who dared to interrupt the teachings of triangles, and found it was his principle Mr. Andrews. Standing next to him was another boy that Harry didn't recognize. Harry was one of those people who knew everyone, at least by first name, and who was definitely known by the rest of the school, so being unable to place the face with a name, Harry was suddenly attentive as he watched the boy bouncing on his toes. Mr. Andrews smiled at the boy and he returned it with a smile of his own and oh. The boy's smile was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before. It was so full and happy and I would do anything to see him smile again, Harry thought. 

Ms. Delphen said something to the boy that Harry couldn't hear and he leaned in closer as if that would help. It wouldn't seeing as Harry was on the opposite side of the room. He leaned so far as to knock his book of his desk, earning him some odd glances from around the room, and returned to his normal sitting position. He bent down to retrieve the fallen book that he really didn't care about when he heard Ms. Delphen tell the boy to find his seat next to Harry.

Harry looked up as the boy made his way over, leaving the book on the floor. He watched the boy saunter over to the desk next to his. He walked with almost a bounce in his step, like the one was doing only moments ago, standing next to Mr. Andrews. When he walked, his fringe hanging down covering up not all of, but most of his forehead, bounced along with his steps. He flicked his hair more to the side as he came closer. The boy was wearing skinny jeans that weren't overly tight, very much unlike his own, Harry took note of, and a green scoop neck t-shirt. Over it was a denim flannel. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry found himself racking his eyes up and down and back up the boy. He didn't understand it. It was almost like he was the walking definition of whimsical, Harry thought. No, not almost. Definitely. Before Harry could avert his eyes, the boy looked back at him and Harry's stomach dropped. 

"Are you gonna get that?" The boy asked him with a smirk, pointing down at Harry's book. Harry nodded his head and swallowed, before he retrieved the book without saying a word. It was like he had lost all the words he had ever known when he held eye contact with him.

The boy had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. 

• • • • • • •


	3. Chapter 3

**Spinning, searching, shouting and finally: blue eyes. They weren't too far away and they were looking right back into Harry's. Harry tried pushing through the crowd of people to get to the blue eyes. People were bumping into him and he couldn't move anywhere. He did the only thing that came to his mind: he reached his hand out in hopes that the blue eyes would see it, and do the same. Harry tried yelling again, but this time he knew nothing was coming out. The panic in his chest was getting worse. He waved his hand back and forth frantically trying to capture the attention of the blue eyes. It worked. They both were trying to get back to each other, hands reached out in front of them, desperation in both of their eyes. Right before their hands met, everyone disappeared. It was only Harry left on the street, in darkness. It was silent. The only thing he could hear was his own heart beating. He looked around for the blue eyes, but they were gone. Everyone is gone. He was alone.**

Harry faded back into consciousness after having the same dream he's had for four years. With his eyes still closed, he pulled the blankets up higher over himself, enclosing himself in a warm tangle of blankets. He took a deep breathe in and noticed the clean smell of the air around him and reminded himself to thank his mom for the Febreeze spray she got him a while back. As his senses came back from their deep sleep, he heard a faint beeping sound coming from the right side of his bed. 

Wait, bed? Harry thinks, I don't remember going to bed.

Then, as if a dam had broken in his brain, everything that had happened came flooding back to his memory. The skipped shower. The radio. The green butterflies. The car crash. The blue eyes. The ambulance. The faint beeping. What was that? He opened his eyes, immediately regretting it when the fluorescent lights blinded him, again. The hospital. After being blinded he let his eyes slowly open, allowing enough time for them to adjust to the light, and when he finally got a good look at the ceiling, he got earful of someone's voice. 

"Hey, you're up! Finally. Took ya long enough. How are you, mate?" A familiar voice echoed through his eardrums. Harry looked to the voice and even though he knew who it was, he couldn't believe he was actually there. Niall had gotten taller and finally grew into his always too long pants. His blonde hair that used to reach his ears, was now cut short except for the very front, which was pushed up in a styled quiff.

He smiled and felt his lips split, noticing for the first time how dry they were. He attempted to say something back, but instead a croaked out noise that paralleled a dog’s growl came out of his mouth. Luckily, the familiar face in his hospital room gave him a small Dixie cup filled with water.

"Drink some, not too much though I don't think you're supposed to drink too much." Niall said. Harry took a sip of the room temperature water and felt it coat his bone-dry tongue, and throat. He could feel it as he swallowed, bringing him a bit more back to reality. 

Harry looked at his friend he hadn't seen in so long and tried again to talk, "It's been a while." His voice sounded shot. It was rough and splotchy and it sounded lower than normal.

Niall laughed, "You sound like shit, first of all, and second, yeah." His voice took a more serious tone, "It's been, what? Two years? Three?"

"Three." Harry answered. He took another sip of water, wishing he could have the entire ocean, and felt it coat the inside of his throat. He was so thirsty. He was just about say something more when another person came into the room.

His eyes lit up when he noticed that Harry was awake. He came over to the side of his bed. "Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked.

Harry smiled at him. "Liam. Hi. I'm alright, I think. You?"

"Alright, thanks." He said. Liam looked exactly how Harry had pictured him to look at this age. He was taller, and more defined than he was back in school. His toned arms were those that Liam used to talk about having one day, every time he came back boxing. His shoulders were broader, and over all Harry thought he looked, well, stunning.

"Li, you left your coffee out there." The three of them looked over at the voice that came from the doorway. A tall, lanky figure stood there with a grin on his face. Harry noticed how he shot up in height, taller than Niall and probably pretty close to Harry's own six foot height. His brown hair resembled that of John Stamos' when he played Jesse in Harry's favorite morning show as a child, Full House. He had a jaw line that all of Harry's friends and himself wanted in high school. Zayn also had a slight beard, the kind that came from only shaving every few days.

"Zayn too, eh?" Harry said, smiling now at Zayn who made his way over to Harry's bedside. "How've you been?"

Zayn answered, glancing at Liam, "Pretty good, man. Seems a lot better than you anyhow." He said, nodding towards Harry lying on the hospital bed. They all laughed. 

Harry felt like he was dreaming. Three of his best friends, none of whom had he seen in years, were all standing before him as if it were a normal day; as if they have done this every day for the last decade. They looked older, yet still the same to Harry. They all looked like proper adults and Harry wondered when it was they all decided to grow up.

• • • • • • • • • •   
Harry heard the bottle hit the floor when it slipped out of his fingers. He watched the rest of the liquid spill out onto the floor creating a puddle of his favorite kind of regret: alcohol. He was sat in a chair in his kitchen with his elbow resting on the counter, one hand holding his head up, the other hanging down at his side. He stared at the bottle and contemplated whether or not to get another one, after all, drinking is what he's been doing now for the last three days. The thought crossed his mind that his parents could come home and see him like this, or come into his room at any time and there was no doubt that they'd be able to smell the alcohol just by opening his door. Luckily so far, that hadn't happened. 

After another five minutes of staring at the fallen, now empty bottle laying in a puddle of wasted regrets, Harry made his way to the shower. He stumbled a few times in the dark of the house, not to mention how drunk he was, but eventually made it to the bathroom alive. He turned the water on and got in still clothed. He stood there for a few minutes letting the steaming hot water drench his hair and clothes, then sank down to sit on the floor of the shower. He pulled his legs up so his thighs were against his torso, his knees up, feet planted flat to the ground. He rested his head on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs. Harry sat there for hours. Even when the water ran out of heat and turned ice cold, he didn't get out. He didn't notice. It wasn't until his mom came home to find not only the fallen bottle on the kitchen floor, but her fallen son curled up on the floor of the shower, still clothed and drenched with freezing cold water, did he get out. It wasn't until then did he realize that he was crying, his tears blending in with water from the shower.

His mother was talking to him, asking him questions, but with everything she asked, he only cried more. His mother managed to get Harry out of the shower and into dry clothes, before he completely lost it. He was exhausted, he was drunk, he was a mess, and he was sorry.  
He was so, so sorry.

• • • • • • • • •   
Only about 15 minutes passed before a doctor walked into Harry's room. 

"Ah, nice to see you awake Mr. Styles. I'm Dr. Leightell." The older man said. "How are we feeling?" He walked over to check the IV Harry was hooked up to and wrote down something on his blue clipboard.

"Alright I guess. A bit sore, kind of have a headache and I feel sort of tired, but nothing too bad. Oh, except I'm like, thirsty as hell." Harry finished, his voice in better shape, but still rough.

"Good. That means you'll be able to get out of here tomorrow morning. We'll keep you over night to make sure everything's alright, which it looks like it is and you can be on your way." Dr. Leightell said. "And we can get you some ice to suck on too. Not too much water right away, we don't want to shock your system. It's been asleep." 

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

"If you need anything else, just ring on the remote there. It might take a few minutes for someone to get here, but someone will come, I promise." Dr. Leightell explained before waving a goodbye and making his way out of the room.

He thought of blue eyes. He looked over at Liam, then to Niall who smiled an awkward smile that held something behind sealed lips and quiet eyes, and then he looked at Zayn.

"Is he-"

"No." Zayn responded, quietly. "He didn't come. He knows, but.. He's not here, Harry. Sorry."

Harry looked at the typical blue and white hospital bed spread. He figured he wouldn't have come, but felt obligated to ask anyways. He suddenly felt like a pathetic child laying in bed with his three friends gathered around him. He wished all four of them there, and that made him feel even more childish. 

All he wanted was to see those blue eyes again.

They're all he ever wants.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry let out an over exaggerated sigh and dragged his hands over his face. He was drowning in self pity and had no way to escape it. He let his head fall back on the pillow and stared at the too bright lights glaring down at him as if they could see through his strong exterior into the soft, broken insides of him, accusing him of everything he has done. How, Harry thought, did I manage to mess up so horribly and still have three of my best friends show up next to my hospital bed?

• • • • • • • • • •

Harry was driving home, holding back the tears that had been threatening to spill out all day. The lump in his throat had grown bigger than it already started out as this morning. He glanced in the passenger seat at the six-pack of beer, bottle of whiskey, and something else that he wasn't sure of, but thought it might be vodka, that a friend he had back in school had bought him. Harry always thought having older friends would end up being a good plan someday because he'd have someone to buy him alcohol, except back when he first thought this, he had thought it would be for a party, not to drown out the world and help him forget the ache in his heart. Harry has done this a few times before, once when his grandfather died of a heart attack and once when he could not accept that someone could just waltz, literally waltz, into his life and turn him into a shy, skittishly nervous child.

Harry stuffed the bottles into his book bag before getting out of his car. He had to take precaution because as a 19 year old living with his parents, he couldn't let them see him with alcohol. Otherwise he knew he'd be in deep trouble. He went as far as to take the six bottles out of the pack and stuff them in the book bag as well. He walked inside, not knowing if his parents were home or not, and went straight to his room not bothering to turn on any of the lights. He shut his door and dropped the bag to the floor making a clattering noise from the bottles it contained. He fell back against the door letting his head fall back as well and with closed eyes, he let the weight of the world that he'd been carrying around on his shoulders, drag him down to the floor. When he opened his eyes he saw nothing, but the sun shining in through the cracks of his curtains. He sat there, back up against the door in his darkened room, bag of alcohol sitting next to him beckoning him to start what he didn't know would be a three-day long event.

Minutes passed, hours passed, and soon it was as dark outside as it was in his room. Harry could no longer see the golden outline of sunshine on the bottom of his window where the curtains didn't cover. It was the only source of light he'd had since he had gotten home and it wasn't much. Sitting there he heard someone come home making a note to himself that hiding the bottles was pointless because nobody had been home anyways. He listened to footsteps come down the hallway towards his room and stop outside his door. Next came three knocks.

"Harry?" It was his mom. "Harry are you in there?"

"Yeah mom. I'm here. Just tired, I already ate though, I'm just going to bed now." Harry lied. He hated lying in general, but lying to his mom was the worst kind of lying there was.

"Alright. Sleep well hun." His mom said and he heard her footsteps travel lightly back down the hall to the main entrance of their home. Harry dropped his head, defeated. His mom didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to be lied to, and yet he did it anyways.

Harry heard his phone buzz. It's been going off since yesterday, at first just every so often, but now it was like a constant buzzing as if a bee was stuck inside a window struggling to find its freedom. He hasn't answered any of the messages or calls for that matter. He took his phone from the front pocket of his bag and looked at it. 27 unread messages. 12 misses calls. All from the same three people: Niall, Liam, and Zayn.

While he was holding his phone, it buzzed once more and a new message popped up. It was from Zayn: 

"fine h don't answer. But you can't shut us out forever"

Harry grabbed the bottle of beer from his bag, popped the top off, and began his binge.

Harry might not shut them out forever, but he shuts them out for a long three years.

• • • • • • • • •

"I'm sorry." Harry said suddenly. The three of them turned to him, ending the side conversation about something Harry hadn't been paying attention to. Even though none of them had brought it up, they all knew exactly what Harry was talking about.

Niall was the first to speak, "I know. I knew from the first day that you missed me already and everyday following that you just missed me even more." He said with light hearted sense of arrogance and mockery.

"Aw, you know me so well." Harry replied keeping up with his friends sly response.

"Yeah, even after four years of not talking." Niall said. Harry knew Niall meant nothing by what he said just because that's how Niall has always been and some things never change, but Harry still felt guilty about his silence lasting three years.

"But seriously? Like, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have just cut you all off like that." Harry finished, the last part of his sentence falling quieter than the rest.

Zayn chimed in, "Don't worry about it. We're here now right?" He gestured around the room. Nobody said anything about the fact that one of them was missing. "Now is all that matters." 

Liam spoke, "You were an ass for doing that." He said matter of factly. "But if it were me going through what you were, I probably would've done the same thing." They all stared at Liam, a few seconds gone by when Niall started laughing, creating a sort of domino effect until all four of them were crumpled over with laughter. They always knew when Liam was upset. He made it his goal to make sure they knew exactly every detail of whatever it was that was going on. "Well maybe not, but what you went through was crap, so I can't blame you."

• • • • • • •

Harry redirected his stare from the crying clouds outside to the crying blue eyes standing across from him. He didn't know what to do now. He hated seeing the blue eyes sad, but a part, a tiny small part of him, thought they deserved to be sad. Harry sighed.

"Look. If you're not ready than that's fine. I'll wait. Just, can you at least give me like, a reason as to why you decided to tell her yes?" Harry asked.

The blue eyes squeezed shut and out of the mouth came a shaky breath, "I didn't know what else to say."

"No would've been good."

"And what was I supposed to tell her when she asked why? Oh, yes I can't go to the carnival with you because actually I am already going with someone and actually it's my boyfriend. Surprise, I'm gay!" Louis replied, his words soaked with sarcasm.

Harry looked to Louis, "You know that you not coming out isn't the problem. Never was, never will be."

Louis sighed, slouching his shoulders even more so, looking smaller and more defeated, "Then what is the problem, Harry?"

The complete obliviousness that Louis displayed made Harry frustrated. "The problem is that you fake everything to the point where I don't even recognize you anymore! You go from being this positive, happy, beautiful person when it's just you and me or with the other guys, but the second we go out in public, or are at school you change into this negative, fake person who I can't even look at in the eyes. How do you do it? How do you go through everyday pretending like we hardly even know each other? Because I know if I were you, I wouldn't be able to do it. So tell me, am I that unimportant? Like, what is it Lou? Tell me." Harry finished. The loudness of his voice suddenly ending made the stretching silence now bouncing off the walls seem louder than ever. Louis didn't even look at Harry. He stood there, the tears rushing faster and more frequently down his face, landing on the wood floor next to his bare feet. "Fine. If you're not going to say anything, then I'm done. I gave you the chance and now I'm done. I'm leaving." Harry said, turning to the door.

"Wait!" Louis pleaded. "Please just, don't go. Please, don't go. I don't want us to be over Haz, I just, please."

Harry turned back around and faced Louis.

"Please give me one more chance. Tell me what I can do, please." Louis asked, panic painted in his eyes.

"You could tell her you can't go to the carnival with her. That'd be a good way to start." Harry offered. 

Louis didn't say a word. He looked into Harry's green eyes, the ones he saw on his very first day of school when he moved as he entered his new math class. He wondered if Harry could tell then how his stomach was flip-flopping with excitement and nerves to be sitting beside someone with such a beautiful face.  
When Louis still didn't resond, Harry spoke, "Really, Louis? It's nice to know that you care more about not upsetting your friend than you do about potentially losing your relationship with your boyfriend."

"You can't make me choose-"

"I'm not asking you to choose between us Lou! I'm asking you to tell her you can't go with her because you already had plans to go with someone else." Harry said with exasperation tucked neatly behind every word.

Louis opened his mouth a few times as if he were trying to say something, but couldn't find the right words. Finally, when he spoke, it barely above a whisper, "I can't."

With that, Harry walked out of Louis's house, walked out of their relationship, and walked out of Louis's life, taking only a picture of terribly sad blue eyes with him engraved in his memory that would haunt Harry for years to come.

• • • • • • • • •

Harry looked away from Liam and his smile fell from his face. His words raced through his mind. What I went through? Harry thought to himself. It was my fault, I left, what about what he went through? Harry shook his head. He felt his chest becoming tighter and a lump forming in his throat. He closed his eyes because he wasn't sure if he left them open if he'd be able to hold back the tears. I was such an ass, Harry thought, his chest becoming even tighter. His fist closed around some of the blankets.

"Harry." Zayn sighed, seeing the blankets clenched in Harry's hand.

"It was my fault." He replied, his voice broken. "It was my fault. I left. Now he hates me, but I deserve it. I deserved everything that's happened to me." Harry looked up, not caring about the tears that escaped his eyes. He continued, "I cut you all out because I didn't deserve you. Hell, I still don't and I don't know why you're even here to be honest." He finished looking back down and running a hand through his tangled curls.

Zayn spoke again, "Yeah, you were the one that left. And yeah, maybe you shouldn't have, at least not like that, but you did. You can't go back and change it. What's done is done." Zayn said. "That being said, I don't think Louis hates you, and I don't think that you don't deserve us because you do. If shutting us out was what you had to do, then so be it. We're past that, and you need to be too."

Harry wiped the tears from his face and released the blankets from his fist. "I can get past that, past cutting you out, I guess. As long you're not mad then I guess I can, but as for letting go of what I did to Louis? I can't. I can't just let go of that." Harry said, his voice completely destroyed.

He couldn't let go of what he did to Louis because that would mean letting go of Louis altogether and he just didn't want to do that. From the minute he walked out of the door that day, he regretted it. He knew he was making a mistake, but being caught up in his impulsive attitude, he didn't go back.

He never went back.


	5. Chapter 5

He didn't sleep. He was exhausted, but he didn't sleep. He couldn't. Everything Harry had ever done, had ever said, seemed to be flashing through his mind at an unnaturally fast speed, not allowing the much needed sleep to overtake him. He laid there in his hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, alone. He had called his mom- yes, I'm okay. Yes they are still here. Yes I will tell Liam thank you for calling you. Yes I'm sure. No, mom. It's okay you don't have to come. Okay, I love you too- after convincing his friends to leave and get some sleep. They reluctantly obliged saying they booked a room at a hotel near by and would be back the next day. Harry didn't understand why they would even waste their money on a hotel room for him. He was having a hard time understanding why they would come visit him at all.

The thoughts bouncing around in his head were jumping around from being at school, to being with friends and doing everything he could to catch the eye of a certain someone, to being behind closed doors with that someone completely free to be what they were, together.

• • • • • • • •

"Say cheese!" Harry said as he snapped the camera taking a picture of Louis laying upside down on the couch. His feet were up on the back rest with his head dangling in the air where normal people put their feet. Louis smiled, crossing his eyes, refusing to give Harry exactly what he knew he wanted.

"You know, one day I'm going to get a picture of you without your eyes crossed, or without you pulling some other face and it will be in museums all over the world," Harry said looking at Louis still upside down, "And when I get rich and famous for taking the most beautiful picture any museum has ever seen, I am not going to let you see a single penny of my earnings."

Louis scoffed, throwing his feet down and bringing his head upright again after fighting off an inevitable head rush. "Mmm but I think you have to have permission from people to put their faces in museums and do you know what? I just wouldn't give it to you. Also I'm pretty sure you have to actually be a photographer, not just someone who has a weird liking for taking pictures, love." Louis said triumphantly, crossing his arms across his chest and flicking his hair back into place. It was pushed all over the place from being upside down and he couldn't let himself win this argument without looking the part for it too.

Harry narrowed his eyes and tried his hardest to make a smirk that came off as more devious than his normal playful one, but when Louis started laughing he knew it wasn't working. "I'll do it anyways," Harry said putting his camera back in its case and on the shelf before walking over to land himself next to Louis on the couch, "And I'll just have to blackmail you into giving me permission." Harry finished, his voice deepening in attempt of sounding intimidating.

Louis laughed, "Yeah? And what, Haz, are you going to blackmail me with?" He asked.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again all the same. The look on his face must have given him away because Louis's smiled faltered as he realized what he'd just said.

"You know I wouldn't, though." Harry said softly, bringing his hand up to cup Louis's face.

Louis looked him in the eyes and nodded his head. He knew. They've talked about coming out publicly for a while seeing as they've been together for almost a year and half, but Louis just wasn't ready, and Harry accepted it for what it was. He told Louis over and over again that he didn't mind, every time Louis apologized when they had this conversation and his answer was still "no". Harry wouldn't mind of he had to wait forever because being with Louis was all he ever wanted. Seeing him and being able to hold him, even if it was only behind closed doors, was all Harry thought he would ever need.

• • • • • • •

Harry sat up in his bed, the weight of memories pressing heavy on his tired eyes. He stared at the blank wall in front of him, and for the first time in such a long time, he allowed the memories to flood his mind. The deep blue eyes flooded his vision. The sound of Louis's laugh filled Harry's ears replacing the monotonous, steady beeping of the machine next to him. He could feel the brush of fingertips on his arm, at the same spot Louis always touched to get his attention. He remembered the first time he saw Louis's blue eyes, the first time he tried to get a picture of Louis, the first time they fought, the first time Louis said he loved him.

They were sat in Harry's living room on the couch, watching the rain fall from the gray covered sky. It had become something of a tradition to watch the rain fall when they were together. The first time both of them together watched the rain fall, it had been an accident.

• • • • • •

Louis had decided that he wanted to go to the beach despite the weather predicting a rather cool temperature and the potential for some rain fall. At first, Harry tried to talk him out of it, suggesting they stay in or go another day, but Louis insisted that it had to be that day.

"No, Harry, you don't understand. It has to be today because what if next weekend, when its warm and sunny, I don't want to go anymore?" Louis questioned, exasperation filling his voice.

Harry shook his head, "Why would you not want to go then? If it was sunny and warm?"

Louis let out another exasperated sigh and slumped over to the kitchen table where Harry was sat. He pulled the chair out that was next to Harry and let himself fall into it, pouting like he was a child who got told he couldn't stay up late. He looked Harry in the eyes, "Because, I want to go today. Today is not tomorrow, nor is today next weekend. Maybe next weekend there will be a blizzard and we can't even leave our houses. Then I would never even get to go to the beach at all!"

Harry laughed and thought about keeping the argument going, telling Louis that a blizzard in the middle of June was highly unlikely, but Louis was looking at him with his blue eyes and Harry could never say no to them.

"Fine." Harry said. "We'll go to the beach today. Bu-"

"Yes! Victory is mine!" Louis stood up knocking over the chair behind him. He threw a celebratory fist in the air, as Harry pulled him back down in his lap.

"But," Harry continued, "We have to stop back at my house first because I'm bringing my camera and you can't tell me no."

Louis pretended that he had to think about it before he agreed and escaped from Harry's arms to go get ready.

After about an hour, the rain started. It fell in sheets, drenching both Louis and Harry. He only got a couple pictures before it started sprinkling and had to put his camera in his car. They were two of the few people still left at the beach, with the other people starting to pack up their things because Louis refused to let it ruin his beach day.

"It's not like we're not already wet from swimming." Louis reasoned and Harry didn't argue because this was one of the few times they were together somewhere other than at one of their homes. It was a picture of what everything could be, it was everything that Harry wanted. If he was going to be drenched and cold in the rain, he figured it might as well be with his boyfriend. They were sat in the middle of the beach on their towels, which at that point had no other purpose than to protect them from getting sand stuck to them, when Harry looked at Louis.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked, watching the rain leave sparkling droplets on Louis's tanned skin.

"I think the world must have been sad lately." Louis answered. Harry looked at him, not understanding. Louis moved closer to Harry laying down next him, letting the rain fall on his face. "I think that when people are sad or mad or something like that, it all gets taken up by the clouds. The clouds try take away a part of whatever it is that is making the person upset, and the clouds hold it all inside of them for as long as they can, so the sun can shine and people can be happy. The clouds hold all that pain, so people don't have to feel it, but they can only hold it for so long before it all becomes too much and they have to let it all fall back down. That's when it rains."

Harry just stared at Louis. He stared at his face, his eyes closed against the rain, his arms behind his head, his lips wet with rain and Harry had no idea how he got so lucky. How someone like Louis, who said things like that, who had beautiful blue eyes and a perfect voice, could just stumble into his life with absolutely no warning at all. It was moments like these that Harry thought he loved the most. When Louis had no walls up to protect himself from prying eyes, and when he was absolutely, truly, just Louis. Harry wondered what life would be like with Louis a few years from then. Both of them out of thier small town and able to escape accusing glances if they were holding hands somewhere public. He imagined life would be wonderful. Harry couldn't wait until he was able to show people how amazing Louis is, not just as another one of his friends, but as his boyfriend.

"Let's go home." Louis's voice startled Harry out of his trance and they left the beach, unaware of the tradition they just made.

• • • • • • •

Sitting on the couch together, watching the rain fall, hearing the light taptaptap of the rain outside, Harry felt the weight of Louis pressed up again the side of him. He thought about that day on the beach, he always did when it rained. He doesn't remember what they were talking about before they fell into the comfortable silence shared between them, Harry's mom in the kitchen getting dinner ready, but he remembers the way his stomach dropped and heart sped up when he heard Louis, barely audible through a hushed whisper say, "I love you."

It wasn't a grand gesture with fireworks and a fancy restaurant, it wasn't an over the top extravaganza, it wasn't on any significant day, and that's what made it so special. At first Harry wasn't even sure he was supposed to have heard it, thought that maybe Louis didn't mean to say it out loud, but when he looked at Louis and was met with blue eyes staring back at him, he knew that it was meant to be heard. He knew by the way Louis was looking at him, that he meant it and Harry returned the words, sealing it with a kiss.

Now, sitting in his hospital bed, thinking about everything he walked away from, Harry started to cry. He wanted to go back and not walk out of the door, he wanted to go back and tell Louis that everything was going to be fine. The tears raced down Harry's face. He saw the darkened spots on his blanket from where his tears dropped, and he imagined the sky turning a dark, dark gray, and it starting to down pour because he felt so much pain, that if the clouds were supposed to take some of that pain away they must have enough inside them to create a flood, but when he looked outside the stars were shining and the moon was bright and that made him cry even more. He had to do something. He let everything he had slip through his fingers, and just like that it was gone.


End file.
